


through other eyes

by JoJolightningfingers



Series: uncut, unpolished [5]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: (i.e. Chocobro Polyship), Fluff, Implied Relationships, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:00:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24928093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoJolightningfingers/pseuds/JoJolightningfingers
Summary: Noctis wields the power of kings, can pull blades and bullets from the ether, and yet he is convinced that Prompto possesses a magic far greater than he does.A quick story about Prompto, Noctis, photography, and how appreciation grows out of looking for what others see in the world and the people in it.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Series: uncut, unpolished [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1816336
Comments: 6
Kudos: 43





	through other eyes

Being around Prompto should be exhausting. People who _don't_ go through life dialed to the max like he does wear him out on the regular. And he knows Prompto's energy is exhausting to some—Ignis is usually the first to tell him to settle down, but Ignis likes things orderly and Prompto is not that (it's a mark of their friendship, Noctis thinks, that Ignis makes the amount of concessions that he does for Prompto).

For some reason, it's always had the inverse effect on him. Sure, he'll put up a front of it being tiring, or a drag, but Prompto gives him something that he struggles to find on his own in his day to day life. Noctis greets the sun and moon both with lethargy, coasts through most days in his own head, enjoying the sensation of stillness.

Prompto punches through that self-inflicted stasis and drags him out into the world to make him truly _feel alive_. More than that, he makes him glad—glad to feel sunlight and rain and wind. Prompto shares so much of his photographer's eye with the rest of them—shows them through his lenses and filters and freeze-frame compositions the overwhelming beauty in the details. Dewdrops on grass, a line of slender-limbed ants marching across mossy wood, the structure and sheen of a chocobo's feathers.

He looks at Prompto's pictures, every single one of them, and can hardly believe that he lives in that world. His pictures of them, too—they only make him love them more. Gladio's warmth inhabits every inch of him—in the creases his smile makes in his face, in the perfect roundness and breadth of his shoulders, in the way his hands hold a book or a container of Cup Noodles. Ignis’ humor shines through in the way he leans, the way his lips only slant up on one side when he’s amused. His love for them is as understated as it gets, yet Prompto can pull it to the surface with the right angle, the right lighting, the right shot of his eyes behind his glasses. Noctis wields the power of kings, can pull blades and bullets from the ether, and yet he is convinced that Prompto possesses a magic far greater than he does.

The rare occasions where inadequacy consumes him, when he stares up the tower of the burden that rests on his back as King, as leader (when he is scared of failing and letting down those he loves), he looks at the pictures Prompto takes of _him_. He sees confidence in the moments where he once felt apprehension, sees something soft and human, yet _capable_.

It’s the thought that Prompto sees him that way, with such affection and faith, that prompts him to try and look at his friend through that same lens, positioned with such care and thought.

He’s not sure why he’s surprised to find that Prompto is just as much a work of art as he makes all of them look on the daily. They’ve been on the road for weeks by now and yet, the flaxen hair beneath and between his fingers is soft as down. The mouth against his own, soft and accepting.

When they draw apart, Prompto’s eyes are full of wonder, ringed with a sort of terror that Noctis recognizes in him and him only—fear that what he has will be taken away from him. He tightens his arm around Prompto’s shoulders, finally banishes his fishing rod into nothing, and scoots closer to him on the narrow dock they’re sharing. He lifts his other hand to brush his knuckles against Prompto’s cheek, fingertips trailing down to rest softly at the toppled spire of his collarbone. “It’s okay.”

Prompto swallows, and Noctis can feel the way his throat moves. He leans forward to touch his forehead to Prompto’s when he feels an arm tentatively around his back, fingers curled into his jacket. Prompto leans in too, and shudders out a sigh.

“It’s okay,” Noctis repeats, as if trying to press the idea into his skin. “You know I’m always here. And you’ll always be here too.”

Prompto holds him tighter, but it’s not fear of loss—it’s determination. “Thanks, man.” His voice, pitched low like it is now, sounds musical. “I’ve got your back, now ‘til forever. I won’t let you down.”

“You never have,” Noctis says, and the masterpiece of a grin that Prompto presses to his lips feels holier than the Six themselves.

**Author's Note:**

> catch me on twitter @JoJo_LiFi or on tumblr at jojolightningfingers


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